


Toilette-à-tête

by Bohemian (Linguam)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: #SaveShadowhunters, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Anxiety Attacks, Attempt at Humor, Dorkiness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Humor, M/M, Sappy, public bathrooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 12:10:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16534304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguam/pseuds/Bohemian
Summary: “You okay in there?”He’d been so focused on trying to get his breathing all the way back under control that his heart almost leaps out his throat.“Sorry, sorry,” the voice continues from, Alec realizes hazily, the adjoining stall. It sounds genuinely contrite. “I didn’t mean to startle you, sorry.”There’s shuffling, and then a caramel-colored hand appears under the wall separating the two stalls, inches from Alec’s knee.“Hi. I’m Magnus.”“Uh,” Alec says, staring dumbly at the hand. The sight is so bizarre it temporarily makes him forget why he’s sprawled all over the university bathroom floor in the first place.





	Toilette-à-tête

**Author's Note:**

> Spent an hour in a public bathroom having the Mother of all Anxiety Attacks today, and when I finally convinced myself I wouldn't faint or throw up in front of everyone at the mall and made my dashing escape, my mind, naturally, went to fanfic.
> 
> Now, I generally shun AUs, but since this is really just me projecting an awful experience (and adding a happy ending), I'm giving myself a pass. The anxiety only features in the first few paragraphs, before the story begins its rapid descent into the realm of "Malec being hopelessly sappy dorks" that we're all so very fond of.
> 
> The title is completely the fault of my friend, E. I thought it aptly set the stage for what is essentially 2.6K words of pure ridiculousness.
> 
> Stay safe, my friends, and take care of yourselves <3

Alec bursts through the door to the bathroom and all but throws himself into the nearest stall. He barely registers the tell-tale _click_ of the lock as he falls down onto his knees, hard enough that the vibration travels all the way up to his already buzzing head. He leans over the toilet, breath rushing out of him in ragged gasps, and begs his stomach to still its frantic rolling. Nausea sits at the base of his tongue—his tongue that feels like it’s swollen to twice its size, effectively blocking his airways.

He counts his breaths—inhale: four seconds, hold: six seconds, exhale: seven seconds—forces himself to focus, to imagine inhaling calm and exhaling anxiety.

Inhale… two… three… four…

Hold… two… three… four… five… six…

Exhale… two… three… four… five… six… seven…

He repeats the cycle, again and again and again, breaths slow and measured and as deep as he dares to make them, eyes closed. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

It takes forever, although in reality it’s only minutes, he knows, until his breathing is no longer so erratic, and the overwhelming urge to throw up has decreased to severe but somewhat manageable nausea.

The worst of it over, Alec falls onto his butt, slumping heavily against the wall.

“Shit,” he mutters. Tremors are running through his body, whole system still in shock from the intensity of the blitz-attack. He hates them the most: the ones he can’t even feel coming until they’re already crashing over him, but at least this one was relatively quick. He’ll feel shaky and weak for the next few hours, but he’s used to the lingering post-attack haze of bone-deep exhaustion. It’s easily preferable to being stuck in an hour-long peak.

“You okay in there?”

He’d been so focused on trying to get his breathing all the way back under control that his heart almost leaps out his throat.

“Sorry, sorry,” the voice continues from, Alec realizes hazily, the adjoining stall. It sounds genuinely contrite. “I didn’t mean to startle you, sorry.”

There’s shuffling, and then a caramel-colored hand appears under the wall separating the two stalls, inches from Alec’s knee.

“Hi. I’m Magnus.”

“Uh,” Alec says, staring dumbly at the hand. The sight is so bizarre it temporarily makes him forget why he’s sprawled all over the university bathroom floor in the first place.

It’s a nice hand, though. With manicured nails in a pretty shade of deep red with hints of gold.

Alec gives it an awkward shake.

“Alec.”

“Is that short for Alexander?” The guy, Magnus, asks, withdrawing his hand. Alec finds he misses the contact.

“Yeah.” Alec clears his throat, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to blurt out, “I, uh. I like your nail polish.”

“Thank you.” Magnus sounds pleased, though, so maybe Alec can postpone his latest attempt at social suicide. “It’s a mix of burgundy and amber of my own design.”

“Huh,” is all Alec can think to say. He suddenly wishes he’d paid more attention whenever Izzy was off on one of her spiels about fashion and beauty products and color schemes.

Thankfully, Magnus saves him from making an even bigger fool of himself.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he offers. “Whatever it was that made you rush in here? I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

It’s surreal, everything about this whole situation is beyond absurd, but Alec finds he’s too exhausted to care.

“Not really.” Just the thought of listing everything that’s currently wrong with his life makes his heartrate quicken again and he really doesn’t want to have a full-blown breakdown right now, with a stranger on the other side of the bathroom wall.

No matter that that stranger has warm, gentle hands, pretty nails, and a really nice voice. Smooth. Like honey.

Clearing his throat, and, not wanting Magnus to think he’s somehow offended by the question, Alec adds, “I’m not really, uh, that good with words. Not spoken ones, anyway.”

“Written ones are better?” Curiosity laces Magnus’s words. “Are you a writer?”

Alec laughs a little at that. It eases some of the pressure in his chest.

“That’s pushing it,” he says. “But… yeah. Someday, I hope. It’s what I’d like to be.”

“Does that mean you’re studying the Creative Writing program here at NYU? Sorry,” Magnus continues, before Alec has a chance to reply. “My friends, Cat and Ragnor, always tell me I have no sense of personal boundaries and I fear that they might be right. Feel free to ignore me and every attempt I make at conversation. Or you could just tell me to shut it and to leave you alone, that would be totally acceptable, too.”

Alec snorts, surprised to realize he’s smiling.

“No, it’s fine. You’re… fine,” he eventually settles on, and immediately wants to bite his tongue off. “And yeah, I am. Taking the program, I mean. I quit Law and Business last year when I realized I didn’t want to be stuck in the self-centered pretentiousness of corporate America for the rest of my life.”

He doesn’t know why he adds that last part, but it feels important. After all, it was the first time he made a decision based on what he wanted to do, as opposed to what his parents wanted.

“Good for you.” Alec can hear the smile in Magnus’s voice and relaxes a little. Somehow, it feels like an accomplishment.

“So,” Magnus continues after a while. “If you’re studying the CW program, I assume you spend some time at the Writers House?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” The Lillian Vernon Creative Writers House is renowned for its many literary events, workshops, and craft classes. It’s one of Alec’s favorite places to be.

“Then maybe you know a friend of mine, Clary? Granted, she’s a painter, not a writer, but I know she likes to participate in the workshops from time to time.”

“You mean Fray? Yeah, she’s dating my brother.”

 _“Jace Herondale?”_ Magnus’s shock is tangible. “That arrogant, self-inflated—though admittedly very handsome—jock is your _brother?”_

Alec snorts.

“Adoptive brother, yeah. And studying Sports Business doesn’t necessarily make someone a ‘jock.’”

“I’m sorry.” Alec can almost imagine Magnus shaking his head. “You’re right. That wasn’t very polite of me. I honestly don’t even know him all that well.”

Alec shrugs, shifting to make himself comfortable on the floor.

“Don’t worry about it, Jace has that effect on people. I love my brother, but he can be a grade-A pain in the ass, sometimes.”

Magnus hums noncommittally.

The silence stretches, but oddly enough, it doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

“So…” Magnus begins carefully when some time has passed. “I’m aware that this is a loaded question, so you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, but… how are you feeling?”

Alec leans his head against the wall, sighing.

“Like maybe my insides will actually stay _inside_ and not explode out of me in a gory mess of blood, caffeine, and stomach acid. Sorry,” he adds quickly, realizing how fucking _horrible_ that sounded. “Sorry, that was way too graphic, sorry.” He sighs again, frustrated. “I just _hate_ feeling so…”

“Unmoored? Out of control? Like your body and mind have been possessed by a demon feeding off of your worst insecurities and multiplying them tenfold until you literally can’t think of anything besides how completely helpless and scared shitless you are?”

Alec’s astonishment—because yes, that’s _exactly_ what it feels like—must be apparent, because Magnus clears his throat and continues. “I may have experienced it myself, once or twice. You know, I have this hypothesis that mental instability is an unofficial prerequisite for higher education.”

Alec snorts.

“You may be onto something.”

“Does this happen to you often?” Magnus’s voice is gentle, tentative, because he’s clearly aware that it’s a very personal question and they barely know each other. But Alec finds he doesn’t mind.

“A few times a month since a few years back,” he answers honestly. “Two to four times a week during finals and just generally when I’m more stressed than usual. It’s not always this bad, though.”

“Are you seeing someone about it?”

“You mean like a therapist?” Alec snorts. “No. No, my, uh, my parents don’t really believe in that sort of thing.”

“They don’t believe in therapy?” Magnus asks, clearly surprised.

“Therapy, giving into your emotions, _having_ emotions to begin with. Take your pick,” Alec mutters, unable to keep the bitterness from infesting the words. He knows that he sounds angry, and he _is._ His parents have been breathing down his neck for pretty much his entire life, never pleased with his achievements but always demanding more, expecting more, and he’s just so damn sick of it. It’s why he decided to leave last year, because at that point, it had been either walking out the door of the family business or walking right off a cliff.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus says softly, and Alec can tell he really means it. “That sounds difficult.”

“Yeah, well,” Alec sighs, suddenly too tired to be angry. “It is what it is.”

“So what do you do instead?” Magnus continues before Alec can voice his confusion. “If it happens so often, I imagine you must have some strategies?”

Alec shrugs.

“You know, breathing exercises, meditation, telling myself that although it’s confusing and distressing as hell, it’s not something to be afraid of. I try to keep a semi-fixed schedule, with eating, training, sleeping. Sometimes, if I just want to take my mind off of it, I talk to my sister, Izzy, or I go sparring with Jace. Or I read. Writing about it helps, too.”

“Well,” Magnus says, a smile in his voice. “I’m glad you have managed to find so many coping strategies.”

“Yeah,” Alec agrees. “Me, too.” He doesn’t say what the alternative would’ve undoubtedly been, if he hadn’t. That seems a little _too_ personal, considering they’ve known each other for all of five minutes.

There’s a moment where neither of them speaks.

“You, uh. You don’t have to stay here, you know,” Alec says eventually, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty about keeping Magnus here. “I’ll be fine on my own, and I’m sure you have other things to do than sit in a public bathroom talking to the weird guy in the next stall.”

“Trust me, darling, you are much more interesting than the Econ lecture I’m supposed to be at right now.”

Alec’s heart jumps at the endearment.

“Also,” Magnus continues after a brief pause. “It just so happens that I have a little predicament of my own.” He somehow manages to sound simultaneously self-conscious and completely unruffled as he continues, “I may or may not have run out of toilet paper.”

Alec blinks.

And then he’s full-out laughing, completely taken off-guard by the words. Magnus joins him a moment later.

“Seriously?” Alec wheezes when he’s gotten his breathing somewhat back under control, sore stomach muscles contracting but this time for all the right reasons.

“At the risk of irreparably damaging my pride…” Magnus manages. He’s still giggling intermittently. “Yes, unfortunately. Honestly, I’m glad you showed up when you did. God knows how much longer I would’ve been stuck in here if you hadn’t.”

“How long _have_ you been in here?”

“Let’s see…” There’s a pause as Magnus, presumably, checks the time. “Twenty minutes, give or take.”

Alec’s trying really hard not to burst out laughing again.

“That’s…”

“Horribly embarrassing and something never to be spoken of ever again? I couldn’t agree more.”

Alec chuckles.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” He rips off some toilet paper and offers it under the crack between their stalls. “Since you helped me forget about the disaster that is my life, I guess I should return the favor and put you out of your misery.”

Magnus sighs dramatically.

“My hero.”

Alec ducks his head, even though he knows, logically, that Magnus can’t see him blushing.

A moment later, the toilet on the other side flushes. Shadows play across the floor as Magnus moves in the stall, and Alec tries not to think about how this will be over soon. For some reason, he really doesn’t want it to be.

“I’m asking you this for the sole purpose of gauging your state of mind, not to pressure you,” Magnus says. He sounds even closer, now, as if he’s hunching down on the other side. A thin piece of wooden wall the only thing between them. “But what do you say we get out of here?”

Alec takes a moment to do a full-body check. He still feels a bit like he’s floating, a little jittery, and he’s tired as hell. But he doesn’t feel like he needs to stay in the bathroom any longer.

“Yeah. Let’s.”

He uses the wall to push himself upright, blinking and giving himself a moment to find his balance even as he hears the door to the adjoining stall open.

Taking a deep breath, Alec reaches for the door handle and mentally prepares himself to return to the world and face all of its multifarious and no doubt creative ways of knocking him on his ass.

But all of those thoughts vanish the moment he opens the door, because before him stands the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. Glittery black eyeshadow and a thin layer of black eyeliner accentuate a pair of warm brown eyes. Streaks of gold give a challenging edge to raven black hair styled into an impressive mohawk. Layers of necklaces trail down a bare stretch of skin, the V-line of the deep blue, fitted dress-shirt so low it’s almost obscene, and…

Alec’s mouth goes dry.

The pants leave _less_ than nothing to the imagination, sticking to lean, muscular legs like an extra layer of skin—black, with swirling patterns of silver along the sides, but that’s not what’s caught Alec’s attention. No, what he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from is the suspenders, dangling carelessly from slender hips, teasingly—almost daring him to reach out and tangle his fingers in them and…

“Alexander.”

Alec blinks. He looks up at Magnus’s face—his very attractive, very handsome face.

_You’re beautiful._

He can feel his cheeks warming. He clears his throat.

“Sorry, what?”

Magnus smiles at him, soft and gently teasing. It’s the most beautiful smile Alec’s ever seen.

“I was asking if you have anywhere you need to be right now?”

“I, uh…” Alec swallows. Shakes his head. “No. Not really.”

Magnus clasps his hands together.

“Excellent! Then how about we go grab some tea? If you don’t feel like being inside, we could take a walk, maybe to the park or down the river? After all, nothing beats a late-night stroll through the city…”

_“Yes.”_

Magnus raises a questioning eyebrow at the sudden outburst, eyes twinkling in amusement.

Alec clears his throat again, tries to ignore how hot his cheeks feel. “I mean, uh… Sure. Yeah, either works. Whichever you want is fine.”

Magnus reaches for his hand, gently tangling their fingers together. It’s even more grounding than before.

“Something tells me, Alexander,” he purrs, smile almost as warm as the palm pressed against Alec’s own. “That I’m going to enjoy getting to know you _immensely.”_

And as Alec allows himself to be led out of the bathroom on somewhat shaky legs, but feeling lighter than he remembers feeling in a really long time, he can’t help but think that storming out of class suffering an acute anxiety attack might not have been such a bad thing, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> They are so smitten with each other kjdfjghksdj
> 
> If anyone was wondering: sadly, I did not meet my prince charming in the adjoining stall earlier today.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3 And as always,
> 
> #SaveShadowhunters


End file.
